Ride Down the Debt (Casta) by DJ Viri

[Intro, low, smoky, half-spoken]
You run, I ride.
You hide, I find.
C’est simple, non?
That is the law where I come from.

[Verse 1, rough, steady]
I do not chase for prayer or pride,
I chase because the coin says ride,
Some men buy justice, some buy pain,
Me, I bring both on a leather rein.

They lock the door, they bar the gate,
They change their name, they curse their fate,
But every rat who breathes my air
Learns soon enough I still get there.

With one eye sharp and one eye gone,
I track from midnight into dawn,
A rope, a gun, a knife, a grin,
And boots that know where fear has been.

[Pre-Chorus, tense, amused]
You t’ink you vanish in de smoke?
You t’ink de city makes you ghost?
Non, mon cher.
I have dragged ghosts by de throat before.

[Chorus, big, hard, singable]
Ride down the debt, ride down the lie,
Ride till the weak men beg and cry,
If they can pay, I’ll be their law,
If they run, I’ll be the claw.
Marrow pounding, iron breath,
Music in my blood and debt in my chest,
Across black streets or open sky—
You hide, I hunt, I ride, I ride.

[Verse 2, more swagger, sharper accent]
I know de kind who laugh too loud,
Who wear fine coats and cheat de crowd,
Who beat de poor, then slip away
T’inking no hunter gets de pay.

But someone always wants dem caught,
For broken bone or stolen lot,
For blood, for shame, for what they owe,
And I am where de cowards go.

Close fight, dirty fight, I know dem all,
A knee, a blade, a pistol-brawl,
And when de alley gets too tight,
My rope still sings and holds on right.

[Pre-Chorus, rising]
No chapel hymn, no judge’s chair,
No clean white glove, no noble air,
Just me, de mark, de muddy street,
And de sound of panic under feet.

[Chorus, stronger, louder]
Ride down the debt, ride down the lie,
Ride till the weak men beg and cry,
If they can pay, I’ll be their law,
If they run, I’ll be the claw.
Marrow pounding, iron breath,
Music in my blood and debt in my chest,
Across black streets or open sky—
You hide, I hunt, I ride, I ride.

[Bridge, stripped back, smoky, wistful]
Ah, but once...
Once dere were plains.
Wide wind, tall grass, long reins.
No brick, no smoke, no cage of stone,
Just de wild world and horse and bone.

Old fire at night, old songs half sad,
Fiddle crying for de things we had,
De steppe so wide it split your heart,
You leave it once, it never departs.

And Marrow knows, yes, Marrow knows,
De taste of storm, de scent of roads,
He carries me through filth and rain,
Like de old world still lives in his veins.

[Breakdown, quiet, intimate, tavern-like]
So pour de drink.
Hand me de guitar.
I will sing you of the far, far plain.
Of a horse wit’ black eyes.
Of a sky wit’ no end.
Of the hunt.
Of the money.
Of the fools who still think
dey can disappear.

[Verse 3, slow burn, emotional but hard]
Do not mistake me for some saint,
I sell my will, I hear complaint,
Justice is dear, and mercy too,
Most cannot pay for either true.

But I choose my marks, I know de smell
Of jobs dat drag your soul to hell,
I take no chain from every hand,
I’ve lived too long to not understand.

Some debts are coin and some are grave,
Some men deserve no one to save,
So when I ride, I ride it clean—
As clean as any life has been.

[Final Chorus, huge, anthemic]
Ride down the debt, ride down the lie,
Ride till the false men lose de sky,
If they can pay, I’ll be their law,
If they run, I’ll be de claw.
Marrow thunder, whiskey breath,
Old steppe singing under death,
With rope and gun and tavern cry—
You hide, I hunt, I ride, I ride.

Ride down de debt!
Ride down de shame!
Every coward has a name!
Ride down de dark till morning burns—
I always find what never learns.

[Outro, low, smiling, dangerous]
Play de song.
Saddle de horse.
Light de lantern.
Name de mark.

And watch how fast
de night grows small.

3790/7500

[Intro, low, smoky, half-spoken] You run, I ride. You hide, I find. C’est simple, non? That is the law where I come from. [Verse 1, rough, steady] I do not chase for prayer or pride, I chase because the coin says ride, Some men buy justice, some buy pain, Me, I bring both on a leather rein. They lock the door, they bar the gate, They change their name, they curse their fate, But every rat who breathes my air Learns soon enough I still get there. With one eye sharp and one eye gone, I track from midnight into dawn, A rope, a gun, a knife, a grin, And boots that know where fear has been. [Pre-Chorus, tense, amused] You t’ink you vanish in de smoke? You t’ink de city makes you ghost? Non, mon cher. I have dragged ghosts by de throat before. [Chorus, big, hard, singable] Ride down the debt, ride down the lie, Ride till the weak men beg and cry, If they can pay, I’ll be their law, If they run, I’ll be the claw. Marrow pounding, iron breath, Music in my blood and debt in my chest, Across black streets or open sky— You hide, I hunt, I ride, I ride. [Verse 2, more swagger, sharper accent] I know de kind who laugh too loud, Who wear fine coats and cheat de crowd, Who beat de poor, then slip away T’inking no hunter gets de pay. But someone always wants dem caught, For broken bone or stolen lot, For blood, for shame, for what they owe, And I am where de cowards go. Close fight, dirty fight, I know dem all, A knee, a blade, a pistol-brawl, And when de alley gets too tight, My rope still sings and holds on right. [Pre-Chorus, rising] No chapel hymn, no judge’s chair, No clean white glove, no noble air, Just me, de mark, de muddy street, And de sound of panic under feet. [Chorus, stronger, louder] Ride down the debt, ride down the lie, Ride till the weak men beg and cry, If they can pay, I’ll be their law, If they run, I’ll be the claw. Marrow pounding, iron breath, Music in my blood and debt in my chest, Across black streets or open sky— You hide, I hunt, I ride, I ride. [Bridge, stripped back, smoky, wistful] Ah, but once... Once dere were plains. Wide wind, tall grass, long reins. No brick, no smoke, no cage of stone, Just de wild world and horse and bone. Old fire at night, old songs half sad, Fiddle crying for de things we had, De steppe so wide it split your heart, You leave it once, it never departs. And Marrow knows, yes, Marrow knows, De taste of storm, de scent of roads, He carries me through filth and rain, Like de old world still lives in his veins. [Breakdown, quiet, intimate, tavern-like] So pour de drink. Hand me de guitar. I will sing you of the far, far plain. Of a horse wit’ black eyes. Of a sky wit’ no end. Of the hunt. Of the money. Of the fools who still think dey can disappear. [Verse 3, slow burn, emotional but hard] Do not mistake me for some saint, I sell my will, I hear complaint, Justice is dear, and mercy too, Most cannot pay for either true. But I choose my marks, I know de smell Of jobs dat drag your soul to hell, I take no chain from every hand, I’ve lived too long to not understand. Some debts are coin and some are grave, Some men deserve no one to save, So when I ride, I ride it clean— As clean as any life has been. [Final Chorus, huge, anthemic] Ride down the debt, ride down the lie, Ride till the false men lose de sky, If they can pay, I’ll be their law, If they run, I’ll be de claw. Marrow thunder, whiskey breath, Old steppe singing under death, With rope and gun and tavern cry— You hide, I hunt, I ride, I ride. Ride down de debt! Ride down de shame! Every coward has a name! Ride down de dark till morning burns— I always find what never learns. [Outro, low, smiling, dangerous] Play de song. Saddle de horse. Light de lantern. Name de mark. And watch how fast de night grows small.

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